


Broken Heaven

by lacat123



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angel Wings, Angst, Broken Bones, Broken Castiel, Castiel Angst, Gen, Hurt Castiel, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Torture, Kidnapped Castiel, POV Castiel, Plot Twists, Post-Season/Series 03, Pre-Season/Series 04, Sam Winchester Angst, Suicidal Sam Winchester, Suicidal Thoughts, Torture, Tortured Castiel, Whump, Winged Castiel, Wingfic, Wings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-11
Updated: 2018-10-11
Packaged: 2019-07-29 17:46:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16269227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lacat123/pseuds/lacat123
Summary: Castiel is re-educated by Zachariah after helping a human. Will he repent his sins?This takes place between seasons 3 and 4, and is also my first SPN fanfic. Read if you like hurt!Castiel, like me!





	Broken Heaven

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! This takes place between seasons 3 and 4. It also contains spoilers up to season 5. Leave a comment with any feedback for this new poster! 
> 
> Warnings:  
> Graphic violence/torture  
> Suicidal thoughts/references

_He sat on the floor of the bathroom, knees curled up to his chest. His wrist was outstretched, and a silver razor was directly above it. Each breath was a sob, and he slowly lowered the blade onto the skin. He just couldn't do it anymore. Not without him._

_"I'm sorry,"_

 

*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*  
No. I'm just in Heaven. I'm in Heaven. I'm in-

Heaven. 

I am in Heaven, but not any place one would want to be. Not one dreamt up by any man. Nothing but the cold, dank corner of the ethereal plane where the angels who need to be punished go. 

My arms were held roughly over my head with heavy metal chains; toes barely scraping the ground. The cold sound of water dripping above me resounded, as though put there to slowly drive us insane. 

It probably was. 

It slowly fell down the manacles on my face, soaking my hair and clothes through.

This was a mistake. This all was a mistake. Father told us to love the humans, to protect them, before he left. That's all I had done. I knew that I had been taught for years that humans were corrupt, unholy. That despite Father's instructions, they were nothing more than insects beneath our feet.

But I had thought of the time when He was still here, and knew they were wrong. 

All I had done was to protect one man, one singular human. The one I had chosen as my charge. It had been years since any angels had taken ones to protect, but I still remember the times Before. When they knew of us angels, and they were filled with awe and love at our sight. 

But under the archangels' new rules, the ones to replace Father's, we were to have no interaction with the lesser beings. We were to wait until the End, when the Apocalypse had come to pass. 

But, he had been so lonely, so filled with longing for a life he could never have, that I knew his own soul couldn't bear living much longer. He had been devout, righteous, everything Father had said was good in them, but still life had failed him. 

We had failed him. 

I had showed myself to him, giving him belief once again, and more importantly, hope. He had had a blade poised above his wrist, his eyes closed against the world. But as my light filled the room, and the brown was shining between his lashes, I saw a glimmer of faith. I know I did the right thing. The thing Father would have wanted. 

But Michael had found out. And now I was here, in Heaven, bared for any torture my brother could come up with. 

I was alone with my thoughts and heavy breathing that I shouldn't actually need. This was just a representation of my soul, in the form of my last vessel, a new one. 

But this entire place was surrounded by sigils, making the punished human, or as human as an angel could get. 

But that didn't stop the panic from filling my veins at what was to come, my heart racing faster. Normally, we couldn't feel pain, at least not to the human extent, but here, it could be felt just as acutely as any man. 

I had heard about Zachariah's re-education. Every angel in my garrison had. I just never thought I would be the one to be punished. Another single, frigid drop of water fell onto my face. 

The room was suddenly filled with a blinding light, before my "teacher" appeared before me. His soul smiled happily in the shape of a middle aged man. His hair was greying, the little spurts of color slowly being pushed out. His round face was ringed with small wrinkles. 

I then noticed the sharp glint of light off my angel blade, a piece of my grace made physical, twisting between his fingers. 

"Hello, Castiel," he said calmly. As though this meeting was to talk about our next practice duel, not an excuse for him to torture. My throat seemed to close at that, such a human response it scared me. How strong are these sigils, forcing me to be practically mortal?

"Is my baby brother.... scared?" Zachariah's voice was mocking, as though he could sense my distress through the air. He stalked a little closer. I could feel his oddly warm breath on my neck as the tip of my blade moved onto my collarbone. It was resting there, holding perfectly still except the rise and fall of my chest. 

The edge then lightly traced down my chest and stomach, stopping just above my navel. All my thoughts were focused on that one spot.

"Well, you should be. You disobeyed direct orders. You showed yourself to man, told them of our existence." The knife dug ever so slightly into my skin. "You are about to be tortured as a human, able to feel pain. Fear. Now, I will give you one last chance, my brother: do you admit to your crimes?" Even as panic filled every one of my pores, my vision flashed red. Anger pulled me away from common sense, from self-preservation. 

"There is no crime in saving a human's life, Zachariah. That is Father's decree, that we serve to protect them. We are their shepherds," I spit out before I could stop myself, surprised even at the venom the words held.

I felt one of his large hands wrap around my throat. The pressure cut off my air, which I shouldn't need. I'm an angel I shouldn't need air, to breathe. But the sigils blocked my grace, trapping me in human form. I had never felt so vulnerable. My legs were kicking out as I struggled, needing air. I just need air;

need air

need air

need-.

Just as my vision started to tunnel, Zachariah's hand lifted. I gasped, trying to suck as much oxygen as possible into my lungs. He leaned close to me;

"Don't you dare speak of Him. He is gone, His laws do not matter anymore," The knife that I had forgotten moments before dug in a little more, the barest of pains shooting from the point. I could feel a little stream of blood flow underneath my shirt. 

Zachariah sighed, trying to compose himself. My blade was then lifted, and wiped over the vessel's button down. I grimaced at the red that now stained it, thinking of how this was Jimmy's favorite. 

His footsteps echoed loudly as he walked around to my back. It seemed in time with the ever-dripping water. His gaze felt burning behind me. 

The sound of the ripping of my shirt then filled the air, the soft material splitting and falling to the floor. I looked down curiously at the pieces. They looked so broken. The little blood that was there looked like a cardinal's feathers upon white snow. 

"You know, I've always tried to abstain from this. Obviously we are trying to re-teach, not torture," he chuckled at that, both of us knowing that it's not true. "But, I see you are going to be stubborn." 

Before his words had completely registered, I felt the angel blade dig into my back, scribing words, symbols in time to Zachariah's mutters. It was Enochian, a spell to-

No! He can't do this, not this. 

Anything but this. 

I screamed as agony rippled under my skin and along my spine. I felt the tearing, the resetting of bone as my now-mortal body tried to compensate. 

This was unholy, even for Zachariah. How could he do this to his own brother? His subordinate? 

"My, my, my. It's been years since I've seen your wings, Castiel," I wailed as his soul's fingers caressed some of my feathers. The sensation was odd. I couldn't remember the last time my wings were physical, much less touched. "I forgot how pretty they were, all black like that. So unusual." 

"P-please, brother. Anything, but this," I pleaded, hearing the pathetic break in my voice but too scared to care. I felt him grip one of my main bones tightly in a menacing hold, his intentions clear. 

"Do you regret your actions? Will you take measures to rectify the situation?" Tears were falling down my face, but I still hung on to a shred of rational thought. My voice was too far gone to answer, so I simply shook my head. 

I barely had time to breathe before a loud crack echoed through the air, followed by my scream. 

*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*

 

_"What are you?" He asked, standing. He dropped the box cutter and grabbed a knife from his back pocket, holding it out defensively. I walked over, putting my hands out submissively before touching two fingers to his forehead._

_I watched as his eyes shifted back and forth, watching the images I had sent into his mind. Images of my brothers, and Heaven._

_When they stopped, he blinked slowly, his gaze tearing. I saw them run tracks down his face, as he looked up at me with awe._

_"You- you're an angel," he whispered. The knife clattered loudly to the floor, along with a few drops of blood from his wrist._

*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*

The water was still dripping. 

That was my first thought as I came back to consciousness. The infernal leak was still spilling on my head. 

I looked around for a second, surprised to find not the beautiful, ever-changing heaven of a 35 year old drowned man, but the cold, damp prison. 

Then it came: the pain. First in my back, setting my spine on fire. It ran down the vertebrae, like ants biting every inch of bone. 

Around my ribs they crawled, then through both of my fractured legs. 

But the worst was my wings. Both were shattered, every bone broken into tiny shards which shifted with every motion. Blood flowed freely from where a few punctured the skin, matting my feathers. 

Each breath felt like drowning, each one a race to fill my lungs before coughing. 

It had to have been days by now, of simply torturing me in every way Zachariah could think of. Beating, whipping, breaking. 

He seemed to especially like that, feeling the bone shift underneath his fingers. 

But now as he softly lifted my chin, his touch nearly gentle, I almost believed he was right. He was my savior. 

My hero. 

Almost. 

But then I thought of that man, my charge, clutching the blade like it was his last hope. How his eyes lit up when he saw me, and had his faith restored. That could not have been wrong. Father had taught us to care for them, to lead them, and He has to be right. 

So, as Zachariah leaned in to ask the question once more, I willed my head to shake. Through blurry eyes I saw his frustration, gripping and re-gripping the handle of my blade as though he wanted to shove it through my heart right there. But something stopped him. 

I almost wished he would do it, end my suffering. But something else screamed inside my head to keep going, to just keep going. I saw him lean in close again, whispering something else in my ear:

"I'm running out of options, Castiel. You need to repent, and obviously physical pain won't break you." He shifted once again to behind my back. His hands settled on my wings, and I shuttered without meaning to. 

"So maybe losing your wings will," my heart stopped in my chest. Zachariah wouldn't do that, not to one who hadn't committed treason. But as I felt my blade settle against where my shoulder blades melt into my wings, pressing in slightly, I knew he wasn't lying. 

"W-wait, brother, please," I begged, shame flowing through me. My voice was rough from the screaming. I could almost feel the agony that would stem from falling, from losing my wings. Unable to fly, or go to heaven-

"Repent, Castiel. Only then will you be saved," he said almost reverently, as though he still thought his actions were Father's will after what he'd done. I felt my heart twist in shame, knowing what I must do. 

"I-I... I repent, brother. My actions were w-wrong, and I shall right them," Everything in me was screaming this wasn't true, that what I had done was just, but I am a coward. 

I can't lose them.

I felt the sigils break, and my grace flowed to my injuries. Within minutes, there was not a scratch left, and my wings were hidden safely away. Even the vessel's torn clothes were restored. 

But as I took my arms from the manacles, and Zachariah handed me my blade, something felt off, wrong. 

"You know what you must do now, Castiel," he said, a ghost of a smile still on his face. I nodded, before flying back to the motel where my charge was. 

He lay on the bed, sleeping through a haze of alcohol. I watched his sleeping figure. Who knows what will happen to this man now. 

I took a step forward before touching two fingers to his forehead like I had weeks prior. 

But as I took his memories of me, of all the angels, something wretched in my grace. 

This was wrong, this man should have my protection. But the thought of falling, losing my wings-

I flew back to Heaven quickly, trying to leave all thoughts of my charge back on Earth. I waited for my next instruction, my next command. 

*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*

_"So, angels exist?" He asked, sitting on the corner of the bed. I nodded. "How many of you are there?"_

_He seemed to be genuinely curious, so I talked of my closest brothers, like Gabriel. A single tear ran down his face._

_"I had a brother," he said, wiping his cheek self-consciously. "He would do anything, even give his life for me. Which he did. After he d-; after he died, I had nothing left. I had nothing to live for, until I saw you." His face looked up, hope shining in his brown eyes. A strand of his long hair fell in front of his face, which he shoved behind his ear._

_He had something clutched in his hand which I hadn't noticed before. A power seemed to radiate off it, something more powerful than this man should possess._

_He seemed to notice my gaze, allowing his palm to open and a small pendent to dangle._

_"It was my brother's. I gave it to him when I was little. He always wore it, but I couldn't bear to see it buried, hidden with him." I felt his gaze on me, but kept staring at the necklace._

_Something about it told me I did the right thing. That this was what Father wanted._

_That Sam Winchester deserved to be saved._


End file.
